Upon This Dawning
by Dimlylit
Summary: Based on a dream, stretched beyond. What would you do to regain your humanity? T mainly for gore, but also warning of a perverse situation.
1. Chapter 1

Upon This Dawning

The room is cold; damp; musty. On the wall is one framed picture of a sailboat at a hazardous sea. I feel as if it portrays my current situation pretty accurately. I am strapped to a dilapidated dentist chair, even my neck restricted. I hum to try and foster up some comfort, maybe, just possibly, some courage to face whatever demon is about to come through the door across from me.

I expect a monster of grotesque proportions. Perhaps a misshapen Cyclops or Minotaur type thing with sharp talons to tear into me and consume my frightened body, just as that sailboat shall be consumed by the sea. Instead, the door does not creak open; it simply swings with the grace of a well-oiled hinge.

The man that walks through is clean cut. He stands at an unimpressive height of 5'8", has a nice crew cut that complements his khakis and polo. He wears the smile of a million civilized folk. His eyes have no whites behind his bifocals that magnify them to a disturbing degree. I do not smile back; I do not find his joke funny when he offers to shake my hand. He shrugs as if I'm a kid misbehaving and _oh, kids will be kids. _I wait and stare at him with what I hope is disinterest that doesn't show my fear.

"This is gonna hurt, Missy." He has a funny accent that sounds like Hugh Grant trying to be Southern.

"What will?" It's a stupid question, I'm aware; it's purely a habit. I really do not want to know. Just let me be a bird so I can _fly, fly, fly away _from this place. Not that I could get there. I cannot remember which way is home, and surely I'd end up winding down the red brick road, while my yellow one lies forgotten.

He does not even open his mouth to answer. He just keeps on smiling that friendly, void smile.

He pulls out what I call the Potato Peeler 2000. I honor it with this namesake because it resembles the household object, to a colossal degree. Its concave blades are razor thin, with the length of my head. The hilt has a grip, which has odd symbols carved into it, such as what looks like three crosses burning.

He unstraps one arm. I think he is going to cut me with the double blade. He does not, and chooses to run his tongue along my skin. I try to break free as goosebumps rise on my arm, yet I am somehow surprised by the strength of the thing with the physique of an average man. He holds on tight and even nips the skin a bit with his teeth. My gag reflex is triggered and I fight to keep the bile in my throat.

He leaves the same disgusting trail of saliva on my opposing arm, along with both of my legs. My chest heaves as I give up my strife and vomit. Fortunately, I am filled with merely water, and only a small trail of shameful liquid streams from the orifice of my mouth.

Finally the Potato Peeler 2000 comes into play. And boy, does it slice that potato skin. Goodbye strips of nude. Pain comes quickly. So does blackness.

* * *

I awaken an egg, being dropped into a frying pan. _Sizzle, red hot sizzle, _goes my body. I have never experienced this kind of pain in my comprehensible life. There seems to be no solution in my mind to end the feeling my body is trying to endure. What happened?

Then recollection rings a bell in my mind. The Potato Peeler 2000; that's right. I look down at where my skin used to be, everything raw and exposed, like the delicacy of a baby bird as it falls from its nest and splats on the concrete. It's gone; and I'm still living. The anomaly of the century, I could bet you.

The man returns and stares at me with the same congenial grin.

"Ah, my prodigy. Are you prepared to flourish?"

**To be continued.**


	2. Chapter 2

Upon this Dawning 2

"Ah, my prodigy. Are you prepared to flourish?"

Why the Hell was I a prodigy? What did he accomplish by stripping away my epidermis armor and leaving me endure to this _harsh, harsh sea_?

I attempted to speak, but all that came out was the rasp of a car engine failing. His facial expression remained constant. "You may be wondering why I did this to you."

As I went to nod, the two parts at the back of my neck touched and the room flooded with waves of white hot pain. I wanted to cry; the tide had grown far too high for tears though. How could one weep with water upon their face? The same with screaming or just dropping dead. If I did, I would just be a corpse on the shore of this room. What's the point in dying in front of Mr. Friendly? He wouldn't care. _Wait_ _until a stronger boat cruises past_, I whispered to my body. My body affirmed an agreement.

"I chose you as an experiment. I want to prove that it is indeed possible to rebuild the outside body from the ground up. You will show that society should not be rewarded things. You will gain your skin back, one foot at a time." He clapped his hands together as if insanely pleased with himself. "How will you carry this forward? You will also be my errand runner for um, my research. All you have to do is collect items as instructed on a list. Any questions?" He bellowed with laughter, satisfied with his own cruel joke.

There _was_ a question I had. My throat constricted, and the engine failed three times before starting up roughly, "Cloth..es?". Would it hurt to put on clothing? I could only imagine and shiver and wince.

He nodded and gestured to the Door of Expectancy while saying, "Someone will fit you in a rubber suit that will cover you in a way similar to skin."

I nodded once again. I found myself wondering why I was being so complacent to his demands and wishes. Why was I fitting to the mold of this lifestyle? _You have no other choice_, whispered my brain. _He'll kill you where you sit._

Mr. Friendly walked out the Door of Expectancy, returning shortly with a thing that looked like half of a boy and half of a boy sown together. The boy half was slightly taller, standing at about 4'1". The girl eye looked me up and down, surveying the wreckage, while the boy's half crescent spoke to say "Assist." It seemed like both of us would be constructing one worded conversations. The halves presented a body skin that had been shed from rubber.

Getting ready brought upon further legions of pain. Don't let the wool go over the eyes and trick me into thinking that just because my false skin was upon me, that I would feel better. The rubber chafed and tore of bits of the meat of my skin as I walked out of the Door of Expectancy. I was given a letter and what looked like a bowling ball bag that clanked with unknown beasts.

I read the letter, titled _Chores_.

Names appear on the scroll. Male and female names, probably fifteen or so. Below them read _collect_. I am not surprised that that bowling bag is full of torture instruments.

**To be continued.**


End file.
